Nostalgia

Let us be the say all
the be all
the see all of ourselves,
with a sort of translucent might.
The past holds up spectacularly,
idiosyncrasies our mind left behind.
we twisted and turned with doubt
at our heedless failings,
yet the failings have not failed me.
They, representing,
a greater piece of being
a sword in consciousness,
made from all the crystallization
of cognitive recognition,
and countless mistakes.
These mistakes are used to battle
greater losses, and ignore
the pain of our precipitated past.
I do not carry these
as a burden, outweighing my body,
but as a box which my
mind decides to open at
any given situation.

The Road Less Traveled

A deep sideline
dug like a valley.
I rest there for now
no returning to point A.
The road less traveled
though it be full of holes
is a comforting strain
to the aches in my body.
To say sorry to yourself
for all the things done,
allows you to admit
the bleak road of the traveler.
Your bleak road.

We all feel pain
we all know suffering
we can't change this
unceasing fact.
How we walk our road
is up to us.
For no willingness,
allows you to lazily accept death.

Bliss comes from oblivious
oblivious is the root to numb.
Pain only forsees.
-Taken from Σ April 17, 08 blog entry.
© Sigma 2008